


What I Mean (To You)

by joonfired



Series: Mandorin [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (LadyIrina AU), The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Corin gets upset, Fanart, Foiled Confessions, Forehead Touching, Hungry Baby Yoda, I Don't Even Know, I couldn't stop myself from writing this, M/M, Mandalorian Culture, My First Fanart, Post ch3 of Family and Home, The Author Regrets Nothing, bless Lady Irina for giving us this ship, just two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21852052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joonfired/pseuds/joonfired
Summary: Corin is told what the gifted pauldron means and drama ensues
Relationships: Baby Yoda & Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret) & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Mandorin [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569676
Comments: 44
Kudos: 515





	What I Mean (To You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Family and Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758992) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 



> after chapter 3 of Family and Home I just had to write this okay  
> also I was rushing through so that's why the ending is choppy

Corin had never missed the translator aspect of his helmet more than now.

Everyone except him was speaking the rippling foreign language of Mando’a as he sat surrounded by the hulking beskar-clad figures around a table in a dimly-lit and bit stuffy room somewhere underground. The child was on his lap, one of Corin’s hands absently resting against its little body to keep it from falling or scooching away to stars-knew-what-trouble as it happily sucked on a meaty bone.

His Mandalorian was seated next to him, but he’d never felt more distant.

Corin didn’t complain . . . how could he? He’d done nothing to deserve the protection of his Mandalorian, let alone be even near a race which had been so nearly destroyed by the power he once served. He should be grateful for any scrap they tossed his way.

And yet . . .

And yet he felt ignored. Like he was nothing, even though the beskar glinting on his shoulder proved that he was  _ something _ in the Mandalorian culture, right?

The gifted pauldron earned many sideways helmet tilts in his direction, visored eyes lingering on him for more than just being the only unhelmeted figure here. Well, besides the child, but Corin doubted that really mattered for one its age.

Something tapped against his thigh, and Corin looked over his shoulder to see several helmeted younglings huddled in the shadows behind him. Even with their hidden expressions, they gave the impression of youth and curiosity, which made him smile.

The smallest raised an ungloved human hand and pointed at his pauldron.

“Who gave that to you?” they asked, a childish lisp coming through even with their regulated voice.

Corin tipped his chin in the direction of his Mandalorian. “He did.”

Suddenly the children burst into whispers and giggles, which drew curiosity of his own.

_ Why _ was everyone so weird about the gift? It was just a pauldron. It was just his Mandalorian’s way of showing gratefulness. It wasn’t like he’d given him a whole set of armor and helmet with the offer to join the Way.

Corin knew he wasn’t worthy of such an invitation, no matter what. He didn’t think himself unworthy to be here, but he knew he was truly unworthy to be called a Mandalorian.

And he was tired of wearing armor as his definition.

The smallest figure stepped forward and cupped their hands around the lower portion of their helmet as they whispered, “He must really love you.”

What?

Love?

_ What _ ?

Corin gaped at the child, who then fled in a flurry of giggles and whispers as the group scurried off into the shadows.

_ LOVE _ ??

Corin suddenly stood up, his mind whirling. The unknown words of Mando’a hammered at his shocked thoughts like blows. He needed quiet and space and time to think.

Was the pauldron symbolic in  _ that _ way?

The child whined softly and reached for the fallen bone which had clattered out of his hands when Corin lunged upright.

And that’s when Corin noticed the talking had quieted and almost all the helmeted stares were turned towards him, most auspicious that of his Mandalorian. Which he could not take now without demanding the true meaning of the beskar shining on his now-burning shoulder.

“I . . .” Corin stammered. “I need to go.”

He turned and took off towards what he guessed was the exit of the room, but then ended up in one of the darkened winding tunnels of this area the Mandalorians had claimed as their own. He settled the child more comfortably in his arms, but it was still complaining about the lack of food in its hands and mouth.

“Shh, I know,” he murmured, stroking its head. “I’ll get you more food back at the ship.”

There was an uproar of laughter from behind them, followed by teasing remarks Corin didn’t know. Perhaps they’d been talking about him the whole time, wondering about the beskar on his shoulder and laughing openly about it in front of him.

Maybe they’d been laughing at his Mandalorian, too.

Maybe they saw it as a violation of their Way?

“Hey!” His Mandalorian exited the room and jogged towards Corin. “Where are you going?”

He sounded angry, Corin thought. Well, that was fine. He couldn’t just give a huge token or whatever to him without explaining what it meant! Especially if it meant . . .  _ that _ .

“Back to the ship,” Corin answered stiffly, doing his best to conceal his roiling emotions without the easy barrier of a helmet.

“Why?”

“I think you know exactly why.”

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet fractionally, a movement Corin knew well to be questioning.

“The child, uh, didn’t seem to look so well,” he lied, bouncing the child for effect.

The child just cooed and blinked at the Mandalorian . . . and then held his arms out for him.

“Uh huh,” the Mandalorian drawled, folding his arms. And then he sighed. “Look, I understand if it’s too much for you, being around so many of us at the same time.”

“Yep,” Corin said, taking a step back. “That’s definitely it.”

He continued walking backwards, patting the child’s back. “So, I guess I’ll see you later.”

Corin then turned and began walking quickly away, not very confident in his sense of direction in the dark, unknown tunnels, but knowing he needed to put some distance before all his questions and feelings came tumbling out.

It wouldn’t have been so difficult to know this if he didn’t care so much. But he cared.

“Corin, wait.” The Mandalorian quickly caught up to them and spun Corin around by the elbow. “What’s wrong?”

“This!” Corin tugged on the beskar strapped over his shoulder. “What does it really mean for a Mandalorian to give armor to someone? It’s not just protection or gratitude, so don’t use that excuse again.”

His voice was shaky and he felt angry, but not really. But he did get a little frustrated with the long silence after his outburst.

“Fine, don’t say!” he snapped, yanking himself out of the Mandalorian’s grip. “Just keep hiding behind that helmet and don’t tell me anything. Kriff, just keep doing things I don’t understand cause that hasn’t stopped you yet!”

Corin really didn’t know what he was saying, only that he was finally saying something. He equally wanted to grab the Mandalorian and, well, do  _ something _ or punch him right in that expressionless helmet. And he knew he was being beyond stupid, but that didn’t matter right now.

He stormed away again, still careful of the child in his arms. But when he turned a corner and found himself faced with  _ more _ tunnels, that’s when the anger appeared. He couldn’t even storm away properly without needing help!

He kicked the packed dirt of the wall in a childish gesture, a growl rumbling in his throat.

“Stupid Mandalorian,” he muttered, kicking the wall again. “Stupid beskar. Stupid heart!”

Of course, that was when the Mandalorian rounder the corner after him. Corin huffed and kicked the wall again for good measure before facing the man.

“I thought . . .” he started.

But Corin was too fired up to be patient. “What? You thought  _ what _ ?”

“I thought you wouldn’t accept it if you knew what it truly meant.”

“Oh yeah, like what? That you love me?” Corin demanded.

“Yes.”

The answer came quick and resolute, effectively slicing through Corin’s frustration.

“Oh,” he said. “Um, well . . .”

“You don’t have to take it like that,” the Mandalorian said quickly. Awkwardly. “But, in my culture, it is — ”

“A symbol of love,” Corin interrupted, now breathless that all their confessions hovered in the air between them.

“That’s the basic interpretation,” the Mandalorian agreed with a hesitant shrug.

Suddenly the child cooed, tearing Corin’s eyes away from the beskar-clad figure and down to its large, curious eyes. It pointed a hand at its mouth and then looked back in the direction of the room they’d left.

When Corin looked back up, the Mandalorian had stepped closer. He placed gloved hands on Corin’s shoulder, one reaching under the beskar pauldron to hold him even more securely.

And then he tipped his helmet against Corin’s forehead in a cold kiss of metal to skin.

“I’ve been a coward when it comes to you,” the Mandalorian whispered. “And I am sorry for that. But I did not want to scare you off. I didn’t . . . I didn’t want to lose you. And if my silence kept you with me, I would have not spoken a word.”

“Well, you still didn’t tell me,” Corin drawled. “You have the younglings to thank for that.”

“Damn those younglings,” the Mandalorian said with no hatred at all.

The child squirmed between them, managing to slide out of Corin’s arms and land on the floor with a soft thump. It then began scuttling back to the room, clearly only focused on food.

“Damn younglings,” Corin muttered, moving to step away from the Mandalorian.

But he was held a moment longer, feeling the weight of the man’s eyes on him.

“This is not a light matter for me,” he said. “If I ever told you, I wanted to say more.”

“How about later?” Corin suggested, peering over the man’s shoulder at the disappearing child.

The Mandalorian sighed and released him, but not before tipping his head against Corin’s once more.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> Lady Irina when are you gonna have these two idiots just admit they like each other????  
> also I love you
> 
> Here's terrible fanart of Corin & baby for you


End file.
